


Pranks That Get You Laid Are Completely Logical

by Thistlerose



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Kissing, M/M, Missing Scene, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-05
Updated: 2010-09-05
Packaged: 2017-10-11 12:02:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/112206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thistlerose/pseuds/Thistlerose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Exactly what it says on the tin.  A missing scene from the end of "Operation - Annihilate!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pranks That Get You Laid Are Completely Logical

Spock experienced mild surprise when, upon opening his eyes, he found that he could see again. He'd forgotten his inner eyelid. That was foolish, but so much of his being had been focused on keeping the pain at bay and discovering an effective weapon against the neural parasites that threatened Deneva that he supposed the lapse was understandable. He blinked at the ceiling for a few moments, then turned his head on the pillow.

Doctor McCoy sat in a chair beside his bed. He was bent forward, his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped under his chin. His blue eyes were clouded with misery. He still blamed himself for the blindness, Spock surmised. Never mind that Spock had been aware of the risks and undergone the treatment of his own free will.

Spock supposed he could have said something reassuring just then. It would have been the kind thing to do, perhaps even the logical thing to do.

For reasons he himself would never fully understand but would eventually ascribe to his human half, he chose to do otherwise.

Returning his gaze to the ceiling, Spock lifted a hand to his temple. He felt McCoy stir beside him.

The good doctor was all solicitude. "Spock, are you all right? I mean, apart from the blindness? Does your head hurt? How do you feel?"

"Doctor," Spock replied, resisting the urge to cast a sardonic glance in his direction, "as you are well aware, I do not _feel_."

"I meant _physically_, you obstinate, green-blooded—"

Spock let him rage for a minute or two, then said calmly, "Physically, I am quite well, as your instruments no doubt indicate. Why you should need to solicit a verbal confirmation of what you already know is quite beyond me." Perhaps that was a bit much. Modulating his tone slightly, he said, "How is the captain's nephew?"

"Fine for the moment," McCoy said, sounding weary. "Still asleep, which I guess is just as well. Jim'll have to tell him about his parents. Poor kid. Poor Jim."

"Where is the captain?"

"On the bridge, naturally. Wish he'd rest. Suppose it would be unethical of me to go up there and knock him out with a hypospray."

"Distinctly," Spock agreed.

McCoy sighed. "Can I do anything for _you_, at least? Can I get you anything? Can I take you anywhere? There's really no need for you to stay in sickbay, though it might be easier than—"

"As first officer, my proper place is the bridge."

"Fat lot of good you'll do there."

"Doctor," Spock said dryly, then paused while he considered his options. He couldn't lie, and yet some part of him was receiving rather uncharacteristic and perverse pleasure from stringing McCoy along. Telling himself that he would end it soon – McCoy was fairly radiating unhappiness, the intensity of which actually gave Spock a twinge – he went on. "Today's events have in no way affected my ability to reason or judge soundly. Moreover, you must be familiar with the term 'the eyes can deceive.' While humans tend to rely most heavily on their eyesight, Vulcans—"

"Oh, shut up," McCoy snapped. "Fine, we'll go to the bridge. Get up. Here—"

Blind or not, Spock needed no help in getting to his feet. Nonetheless, he accepted McCoy's hand on his wrist and his arm around his waist. The doctor seemed so anxious to be of assistance and, well, the pad of his thumb was brushing Spock's palm, and that felt… quite pleasant, actually.

He'd meant to continue the ruse – which he thought of as payback and acknowledged as being beneath him – until they reached the turbolift, but they only got as far as the door to sickbay. There, McCoy took Spock by the shoulders and turned him so they were facing each other. Spock tried to focus on the middle distance over McCoy's shoulder, but that proved impossible. The blue eyes were practically gray with sorrow.

"Look," McCoy began, then bit his lip. "Wrong choice of words. Listen. I know you said it was all right, and I know Vulcans don't go around admitting they're angry, but if you are… I understand. I'm sorry, Spock. I truly am. I'll find some way to reverse the damage. Don't know a goddamn thing about Vulcan ophthalmology, but I swear I'll figure something out. It's possible M'Benga has useful information, and if he doesn't, maybe he knows someone who does. If we have to travel to Vulcan, we will. Your Starfleet career is _not_ over just because I screwed up… and you can see me, can't you?"

His expression didn't change, but his tone was suddenly desert-dry, and Spock realized too late that he'd been following the up-and-down movement of the doctor's right eyebrow.

"Goddamnit, Spock!" His grip on Spock's shoulders wasn't strong enough to cause pain, but it gave a good indication of his fury. "God _damn_ it. I was _worried_, you idiot." It did not seem to have occurred to him that Spock might have regained his eyesight while he'd been self-deprecating a moment ago. "If you'd been blinded permanently, I'd never've forgiven myself, and you, you—"

At least his temper was aimed at Spock now, rather than himself. Why that should matter, Spock was not sure; all he knew was he preferred it that way. He would have given the matter more consideration, but then McCoy's arms were around his neck, as if he meant to choke him. Instead, the doctor kissed him.

It was a strange kiss, half desperate relief, half anger. Spock accepted it. Indeed, he welcomed it with an open mouth and an eager tongue. His hands moved up and down McCoy's body, fingers ghosting over planes and sharp angles. Spock felt his sudden flare of desire; it effectively scorched his other emotions and Spock responded by deepening the strokes of his tongue and hands.

"You're _not_ forgiven," McCoy informed him when they broke apart at last. His face was flushed, his breaths ragged. He was clearly trying not to smile, and he almost had his mouth under control, but his eyes were just about the most radiant blue that Spock had ever seen.

"I did not imagine that I was," said Spock. "Perhaps we should continue this argument in your office." His hands were still inside McCoy's shirt.

"Argument? We're not arguing, you inhuman, pointy-eared asshole. You forfeited the round, if not the match."

"I see." Spock splayed his fingers against McCoy's thin chest, felt the doctor's breath hitch as he brushed his nipples. "That being the case, perhaps we should proceed to the bridge. I'm sure I'm quite ready to return to duty. There's no need for you to test, for example, my hand-eye coordination or—"

"Get in my office," McCoy snarled. "Now."

9/7/09


End file.
